
RECOLLECTIONS 



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RECOLLECTIONS AWAKENED 

BY THK 

iii Stilii! 



BY TJiK 

ARMY OF THE CUMBERLAND. 



I belong to the army of the Cumberland ; enlisted when 
that high-souled patriot, Gen. W. S.'Rosecrans, was its 
commander. Was promoted from the ranks by my mar- 
riage to one of its officers. More than one Southern girl 
enlisted this way, assisting thus far in the restoration of 
the Union. To day memory revives thrilling scenes of 
past experience in the dark days of Civil Strife; before 
the boys in blue had reached our home, or I had hailed 
that "banner whose loveliness hallows the air," when 
borne by a patriot's hand. (For a time I was the only 
member of my family devoted to the Union cause.) 
Among my warm personal friends of the Federal army, I 
recall the names of Generals Sheridan, McCook, Negley, 
Palmer, Steedman, King, Stanley, Mitchel, Banning, the 
noble John Abbett, of In<iianapolis, Dr. J. T. Woods, of 
T-oledo, and many others of line and field rank, with 
thousands of private soldiers, so dear to all hearts, who, 



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in their zeal for a loved country, swept bravely on to death 
in her defense; but these cherished ones are too numerous 
to mention. 

The friends of the Union were few and far between in 
those hours that tried patriot souls; and could not at once 
be distinguished from the rebel horde. Frequently the 
property of the Union man suffered damage and destruc- 
tion at the hands of the Federal soldiery, before the facts 
in the case could be ascertained. To'some extent we were 
among that number. But to the recital of the more excit- 
ing past, now moving before me like a panorama. My 
first experience, though a young girl, was the arrest and 
trial for treason toward the Southern Confederacy, because 
of innate patriotism and fearless expression of loyal senti- 
ment, when my position was asked. By traitor hand 1 was 
marched at the point of the rebel bayonet from the bosom 
of my home to a court of secession, purposely called in 
one of the public buildings in my native town (Franklin, 
Tenn.) there jeered, mocked and sentenced to imprison- 
ment in a more remote portion of the South, for to all their 
charges I answered guilty. Through the assistance of a 
faithful old slave, I escaped the guard, making my way to 
the Federal lines, where warm hearts received me, I 
never stopped until reachmg the headquarters of the Post. 
These facts are still fresh in the memory of many now re 
siding in Franklin, 

But as time moved on, a holier mission was given me, 
— the care of the sick and wounded soldier. 1 had means 
then, and with generous hand alleviated the sufferings of 
many, but always in company with my mother and darling 
sister, who really nursed more in the hospital than myself, 



for there was a lime I could nol work. Our family were 
also divided in sentiment. A married sister, residing in 
Augusta, Georgia, (whose husband was a Confederate offi- 
cer,) was on the wrong side, and a dear brother in the 
Confederate service. My father died i)revious to the out- 
break of the Rebellion. But the bitterest trial of the past, 
to which 1 am referring, was the battle of Franklin and 
the interval. We remamed in the Rebel lines after Gen. 
Schofield had *beconed' the Southern Army on to Nash- 
ville. 

Our residence was located so near the din of the en- 
gagement that we could count dis-tinctly each charge that 
was made. 

From jjf rambling shot and shell, 

Round our door way fell 

Many a valiant soldier. 
(The Federals held in reserve a new regiment near by, 
but on that occasion they were not called into service.) 
Some who were wounded were brought into the house. 
We occu|)ied the cellars, and those recjuiring immediate 
attention were brought below to us. Any errands to be 
attended to had to be done between the charges, my sister 
once barely escaping with her life, a iVagment of shell hav- 
ing struck a tin crockery safe on the back gallery as she 
was passing. The servants and myself were engaged in 
tearing up garments for mother and my sister to dress the 
wounds, which task was performed the best they could. 
This battle was fought Nov. 30, 1864, and was one of the 
hardest contested engagements of the war. But to return. 
I was not in a condition to witness such sic-kening scenes, 
expecting each day to become a mother, yet nerved mv- 



self for the trying ordeal at its beginning, 4 o'clock in the 
afternoon. It was 10 o'clock and still the fierce conflict 
was raging and continued until near midnight. At 15 
minutes before 12 o'clock, my husband and Maj Wm. J. 
Twining, now residing at Washington, D. C, dashed 
swiftly away on their horses to join their commands, then 
moving on to Nashville. Whether it was a last farewell we 
could not tell. The conflict of feelings in the sobing 
adieu and the expected meeting of a beloved brother, in 
life or death, may be better imagined than described. The 
sad morning was ushered in by the firing of 112 rounds of 
Rebel artillery, sounding as though the infernal regions 
had broken loose I In speechless grief we sat beside our 
shattered windows, waiting for the dawn. A little ])efore 
daylight in came our precious brother. Will, whom we 
had not seen for over three years. Oh, the joyful meet- 
ing ! And his first greeting since my marriage (though he 
knew my sentiments before leaving home.) But he must 
join his regiment the same day, which was to march on to 
the blood-stained field of Nashville. The call of duty 
soon found us at our post. The town and vicinity con- 
tained five thousand wounded rebel soldiers. Six Confed- 
erate Generals had been slain. Oh, that cruel battle-field ! 
I can never describe it. Here, lying across the breast- 
works, was Clen. Cleborn, of Arkansas, his noble steed 
beside him. As the Indian warrior has many of the 
shackles of life lain in the grave with him, so by the dead 
Rebel soldier lay his utensils of scanty comfort, his tin 
grater, used under privations, to grate his parched corn, 
to make him bread. None but the Father in Heaven will 
ever know all those poor, misguided fellows endured for 



tlie lost cause. 'Hiere were few I'ederals wounded, com- 
pared with the rebel loss. But there were very few 
friends to care for them ; only one assistant surgeon of the 
Federal army had remained to l.elj) care for the wounded, 
and he proved to be of very inferior cjuality, and would 
have been dismissed from the service for cruelty to the 
wounded but for the simple fact of his having remained. 
His name was Tarleton, and he was exceedingly thin. 

We took charge of one hundred and twenty Federal sol- 
diers, occupying a church and two smaller houses owned 
by us We had l)een able to conceal more j^rovisions than 
some of our neiglibors. (Our negroes were our friends, 
and would not betray us to anyone.) We could not tell 
the length of time it would have to last for those wounded 
men and ourselves. Mother and sister were most of the 
time in the hospital, frequently spending the night raising 
the dizzy, dying creatures to administer food or medicine, 
and store in their memories for them a last message to their 
loved ones. 1 hope that some for whom we have en red 
may see this sket( h and know that we love them still. 1 
remained at home to assist the servants in cooking. On 
my knees rolled out many a bushel of crackers, because it 
hurt me to stand; and, oh I the gallons of soujj I did 
make. At the end o ' the sixteenth day after the r)attle, 
every mite of food had been distributed around. We 
didn't know but that v/e should all starve together, 'ihe 
rebels had not enough for themselves and own loved ones. 
The rebel soldiers who were able to walk around, with 
their bayonets cut up pumpkins and eat them uncooked, 
as if they were some rare fruit. On the morning of the 
seventeenth day wc saw that the rebel army was on a 



retreat from Nashville. We knew that we should now 
have food. But, oh I how sad were our hearts, and our 
cheeks were wet with tears as we gazed on the straggling 
soldiery, some with bare and bleeding feet, many without 
any covering for their heads, save the sky above them, and 
then with pants ripped almost to the waist and, like a bird 
of evil omen, flapi)ing against their bruised limbs as they 
strode wildly along in the cold November rain to greater 
])rivation than before. Thank Ood, it was for them the 
the darkest hour before the radiant day ! In the language 
of " Harrison Millard," one of the noblest patriots that 
ever blessed our land, the dawn brought — 

" No North, no South, no New England, no West, 
But one Country, always the greatest, the best." 

Yet one sad tjuestion we dare not ask each other, wJietr 
was JJl/l ? — a son and brother dear. We knew among the 
slain, dying on the battle-field, on the retreat or a prisoner, 
the latter for which we prayed ardently. Nor did we hear 
from him until after the battle of Bentonville, North Caro- 
lina. Then come to our hearts a letter from his prison- 
home. It was at this time that Gen. (ieorge H. Thomas 
became our warm, personal friend, when his great gener- 
ous heart extended so much sympathy in acts of kindness 
to us, though I had known him long before. He was so 
modest, so gentle, never ])arading his greatness, a ])ure 
patriot and one of the bravest Generals of the army. It 
was most fitting that the gallant Army of the Cumberland 
should be in attendance at the unveiling of his statue, 
erected now in the heart of Washington, /lis memory en- 
shrined in the Jicart of tJte Nation] Even a >^ we fondlv 



raise the veil to look for the last time on the face of a dear 
one departed, so did my soul yearn to be present on the 
dear, sad and glorious occasion of the unveiling of the 
statue of ''Gen. George H. Thomas." But this was not 
possible. I must, like a true soldier, march on to the call 
of duty here in the support of two dear children and self. 
My recreation must be from the treasures of memory, 
financial ones having vanished during my widowhood. 

Mrs. F. Octie Courtney Cochnower. 
Crawfordsville, Ind., November 22, 1879. 



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